From: Time In The Rock
XXIV
If one voice, not another, must speak first,
out of the silence, the stillness, the preceding—
speaking clearly, speaking slowly, measuring calmly
the heavy syllables of doubt, or of despair—
speaking passionately, speaking bitterly, hunger or hope
ordering the words, that are like sounds of flame—:
if one speaks first, before that other or the third,
out of the silence bringing the dark message,
the grave and great acceptance of the rock,
the huge world, held in the huge hand of faith:
and if it says, I hold the world like this;
here in the light, amid these crumbling walls;
here in the half-light, the deceptive moment,
here in the darkness like a candle lifted—:
take it, relieve me of it, bear it away;
have it, now and forever, for your own;
this that was mine, this that my voice made mine,
this that my word has shaped for you—
if this voice speaks before us, speaks before
ourselves can speak, challenging thus the dark;
waking the sleeping watcher from his sleep,
altering the dreamer’s dream while still he dreams;
so that on waking—ah, what despair he knows!
to learn that while he slept the world was made—
made by that voice, and himself made no less,
and now inalterably curved forever—
yes, if to wake, to cease to dream, be this,
to face a self made ready while we slept,
shaped in the world’s shape by the single voice—
if thus we wake too late and find ourselves
already weeping, already upon the road
that climbs past shame and pain to crucifixion—
seeing at once, with eyes, just opened, the world,
vast, bright, and cruciform, on which so soon
ascending we must die—
and to look backward,
but know no turning back; to go forward,
even as we turn our faces to the past;
still gazing downward from the hill we climb,
searching the dark for that strange dream we had,
which the voice altered and broke—
ah, can it comfort us,
us helpless, us thus shaped by a word,
sleepwalking shadows in the voice-shaped world,
ah, can it comfort us that we ourselves
will bear the word with us, we too, we too
to speak, again, again, again, again,—
ourselves the voice for those not yet awakened,—
altering the dreams of those who dream, and shaping,
while still they sleep, their inescapable pain—?
LX
The chairback will cast a shadow on the white wall,
you can observe its shape, the square of paper
will receive and record the impulse of the pencil
and keep it too till time rubs it out
the seed will arrange as suits it the shape of the earth
to right or left thrusting, and the old clock
goes fast or slow as it rusts or is oiled.
These things or others for your consideration
these changes or others, these records
or others less permanent. Come if you will
to the sea’s edge, the beach of hard sand,
notice how the wave designs itself in quick bubbles
the wave’s ghost etched in bubbles and then gone,
froth of a suggestion, and then gone.
Notice too the path of the wind in a field of wheat,
the motion indicated. Notice in a mirror
how the lips smile, so little, and for so little while.
Notice how little, and how seldom, you notice
the movement of the eyes in your own face, reflection
of a moment’s reflection. What were you thinking
to deliver to the glass this instant of change, what margin
belonged only to the expectation of echo
and was calculated perhaps to that end, what was left
essential or immortal?
Your hand too,
gloved perhaps, encased, but none the less
already bone, already a skeleton,
sharp as a fingerpost that points to time—
what record does it leave, and where, what paper
does it inscribe with an immortal message?
where, and with what permanence, does it say ‘I’?
Perhaps giving itself to the lover’s hand
or in a farewell, or in a blow,
or in a theft, which will pay interest.
Perhaps in your own pocket, jingling coins,
or against a woman’s breast. Perhaps holding
the pencil dictated by another’s thought.
These things do not perplex, these things are simple,—
but what of the heart that wishes to survive change
and cannot, its love lost in confusions and dismay—?
what of the thought dispersed in its own algebras,
hypothesis proved fallacy? what of the will
which finds its aim unworthy? Are these, too, simple?
LXVII
Walk man on the stage of your own imagining
peel an orange or dust your shoe, take from your pocket
the soiled handkerchief and blow your nose
as if it were indeed necessary to be natural
and speak too if an idea should recommend itself
speak to the large bright imaginary audience
that flattering multiplication of yourself
so handsomely deployed and so expectant
tell them between flingings of orange peel
or such other necessary details of your rôle
precisely what they are, or what you are
since—lamentably—they are so much the same thing.
Decrepit inheritor of the initial star!
do you yourself sometimes imagine
or even perhaps say to that peculiar audience
something of this? as that yourself and they
comprise one statement? supercilious
the actor may be, often is, to those who hear him
but to be supercilious to one’s self
even in one’s dramatic moments!—marvellous
decay of what in God’s first declaration
might have been good.
poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
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Change The World
Imagine a place only your soul can vision
The heart of a child who looks, sees, and listens
Paints a picture using every color
And what she sees she sees it like no other
One word, a voice unheard
You can Change The World
With everything I know your made of
One word, a voice unheard
You can Change The World
If everyone would stop and listen
The art of innocence makes so much sense
Of a place there no wrong has well then it's wasted
Filtered through the eyes of a pure mind
A one of a kind, paradise for you and I, you and I
One word, a voice unheard
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If everyone would stop and listen
Break the cycle, find your rhythm
Share the gift that you've been given - Love
You can, You can Change The World
You can Change The World with love
One word, a voice unheard
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If everyone would stop and listen
One word, a voice unheard
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With everything I know your made of
One word, a voice unheard
You can Change The World
If everyone would stop and listen
song performed by by P.O.D.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Watcher on the Tower
I
The Voice of a Man
WHAT of the Night, O Watcher?
The Voice of a Woman
Yea, what of it?
The Watcher
A star has risen; and a wind blows strong.
Voice of the Man
The Night is dark.
The Watcher
But God is there above it.
Voice of the Woman
The Night is dark; the Night is dark and long.
II
Voice of the Man
What of the Night, O Watcher?
Voice of the Woman
Night of sorrow!
The Watcher
Out of the East there comes a sound, like song.
Voice of the Man
The Night is dark.
The Watcher
Have courage! There’s To-morrow!
Voice of the Woman
The Night is dark; the Night is dark and long.
III
Voice of the Man
What of the Night, O Watcher?
Voice of the Woman
Is it other?
The Watcher
I see a gleam; a thorn of light; a thong.
Voice of the Man
The Night is dark.
The Watcher
The Morning comes, my Brother.
Voice of the Woman
The Night is dark; the Night is dark and long.
IV
Voice of the Man
What now, what now, O Watcher?
The Watcher
Red as slaughter
The Darkness dies. The Light comes swift and strong.
Voice of the Man
The Night was long.—What sayest thou, my Daughter?
Voice of the Woman
The Night was dark; the Night was dark and long.
poem by Madison Julius Cawein
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The Metaphor Of The Mirror And The Light
there is this face
in the mirror and it is talking to the body
to remind its skin
that it is real,
lights are turned off
and the face only hears a voice
from its mouth
it is assured still that it is a face
of someone it knew
so well
and will not deny it
the voice faded in darkness
and the face
hears nothing
and sees nothing about
its skin
and eyes
it is dark
and there is no voice anymore
except the
silence
and the loneliness that is about
to make a scream
to the mirror
that had long shut itself
because there is no light
the face demands a voice
the mirror begs for light
for the voice is a security
that life exists
and the light is the only
anchor of the mirror
when it becomes a boat
in the sea
of emptiness
but there is no light
and there is no voice
the mirror breaks the silence
the face becomes the wind
there is no boat
much less an anchor
there is only a word written
on paper
left on the floor
and it is spoken for no
one....
poem by Sebastian Soberania
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This Is My Voice
This is my voice,
Sad, prolonged, fever pitched,
With some intermittent turbulence
In between a concentrated discourse
But
Still in a slow, smooth, sailing like
A canoe on a very clear silent running river
And
Some rapids, and rocks somewhere, may distort,
This voice
Of mine,
Or
At the edge for which a waterfall rages,
This
Voice
Of
Mine,
May sound like a violent fall of a hundred heavy waters,
Not a drip, but a hundred heavy, heavy falling waters,
As though the whole word is falling down
On your
Shoulder,
This is my voice, sad, on a prolonged agony,
But somehow, when tickled may move into
A mystery, not discounting the possibility of
An ecstasy,
A fantasy,
And you, my love, my beautiful reader, may hear this voice
Speaking to you in a hush of silence,
This is my voice; hear it for what it is, that is all that I ask of you,
I am myself speaking. I am real, this voice of mine.
Listen to me.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I will be speaking to you in my own voice
This is my voice,
Sad, prolonged, fever pitched,
With some intermittent turbulence
In between a concentrated discourse
But
Still in a slow, smooth, sailing like
A canoe on a very clear silent running river
And
Some rapids, and rocks somewhere, may distort,
This voice
Of mine,
Or
At the edge for which a waterfall rages,
This
Voice
Of
Mine,
May sound like a violent fall of a hundred heavy waters,
Not a drip, but a hundred heavy, heavy falling waters,
As though the whole word is falling down
On your
Shoulder,
This is my voice, sad, on a prolonged agony,
But somehow, when tickled may move into
A mystery, not discounting the possibility of
An ecstasy,
A fantasy,
And you, my love, my beautiful reader, may hear this voice
Speaking to you in a hush of silence,
This is my voice; hear it for what it is, that is all that I ask of you,
I am myself speaking. I am real, this voice of mine.
Listen to me.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Nineteen
This is my voice,
Sad, prolonged, fever pitched,
With some intermittent turbulence
In between a concentrated discourse
But
Still in a slow, smooth, sailing like
A canoe on a very clear silent running river
And
Some rapids, and rocks somewhere, may distort,
This voice
Of mine,
Or
At the edge for which a waterfall rages,
This
Voice
Of
Mine,
May sound like a violent fall of a hundred heavy waters,
Not a drip, but a hundred heavy, heavy falling waters,
As though the whole word is falling down
On your
Shoulder,
This is my voice, sad, on a prolonged agony,
But somehow, when tickled may move into
A mystery, not discounting the possibility of
An ecstasy,
A fantasy,
And you, my love, my beautiful reader, may hear this voice
Speaking to you in a hush of silence,
This is my voice; hear it for what it is, that is all that I ask of you,
I am myself speaking. I am real, this voice of mine.
Listen to me.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Let me dream
I saw you today after so many years.
I was so happy I wipped away the tears.
The moment I saw your smile
It only took a while for me to notice...
It was you! !
Your beautiful eyes
They still have the power to mesmorize.
Seeing your face
How you move with such grace
Your smile shines brighter than the sun.
Your eyes more radient than the stars
Your voice how it makes the angels sing
Your so wonderful
Sometimes I think its just a dream
and if that be so..let me never wake
Let me sleep forever
just let me dream
Of my Romeo
Of my Edward Cullen
Of my everything
Let me dream
Just let me see your face again
Let me dream
That your not to good to be true
Let me dream
Of your smile one last time
Let me dream
And look into your eyes
Let me dream
At your side
Let me dream Dear Romeo, Let me dream....
poem by Trinidad Villafranca
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As You Look Deep Into The Mirror
the mirror is the echo of the sound you make
inside yourself,
the voice that you utter when nobody watches you
when all of them left to their homes
and you are left alone
talking to yourself, the voice comes out
from your heart
speaking your name, your dreams
you hear the voice that you cannot see
calling you
and so you stand before the mirror
and try once more
to see the face of that voice
fair and square
it tells you who you really are
softer inside
hard on the outside
the exoskeleton that you have been making
breaks down
like flakes of mud drying
the warmth in your eyes is still there
the affection you want to give
the love you want to spread
they are all there
in your eyes
but you cannot help it
seeing something ugly
you have not spoken
the voice hides in the silence
walled by your teeth
your tongue swollen
this discomfort of not saying
anything as everyone you love
leaves the door still opening
to the cold outside
the wind hunting for some stars
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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How I love your Voice
How I love to hear you speak and call my name
The way your lips, tongue, and mouth forms letters and words
Those sensual overtones that utter sweet sounds that resonate in my ears
How I love to hear you speak
Your articulation brings forth joy and laughter to my soul
Your words are like music set to a melody sang by angels
It is like the birds summoning me to paradise
Your subtle amplitude drives me while at ever utterance
I beg you to continue speaking to me for I have never heard a sweeter tone
Your audible vibrations are like a musical instrument playing lullabies to my soul
Your voice reminds me of being a child being rocked to sleep
Speak to me in those warm tones of elegance that only you possess
How I love to here your voice in all its magnitude
It comforts me on my lonely days of inner reflection
It brings me hope for a greater day
When I hear you regulate the tones I am in a trance
I am captivated by every sentence you speak
I listen to your words intently at its rhythm
It warms me on a cold day and cools me off in the heat
How I love just to hear you speak to me
I would give it all away just to hear your words
Such satisfying sounds swings me back and forth in a dizzy dance
I lose my footing every time you speak
It is not just your words but the beauty within that captivates me so
I save all your messages to hear plaid over and over again
They are melodious songs that bring forth the light of a new day
They are enchanting as you are in life
No words spoken could explain the grace and charm of your voice
Each time you speak I have died a thousand times
With each word I am sent heaven bound
Your voice takes me places only imagined in dreams
Paradise once lost is found in your voice
Let it be known that there is no other like you
I am compelled to a higher ground
Your expressions are like the wind in my sails that sets me free
I cannot place no other above you
Your voice is all I ever need to hear in life
Your ability to speak brings shivers up and down my spine
It has the greatest influence over my body
If I should ever fall and stricken deaf, your voice would remain reverberating in my heart
It would be the last sounds I would want to hear
Your name would be the last sound spoken from my lips
Your voice, how I love it so
poem by Wilfred Mellers
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Brother Of Mine (I. The Big Dream II. Nothing Can Come Between Us III. Long Lost Brother Of Mine)
i The Big Dream
(Anderson Howe Wakeman Bruford)
So giving all the love you have
Never be afraid to show your heart
So giving all the love you have
There is a special reason
A special reason...
In the big dream
We are heroes
We are dreamers
Of the big dream
Someone told me
There are brothers
Live forever
In the big sky
Just hear your voice
Sing all the songs of the earth
Nothing can come between us
You're a brother of mine
Sing out your sisters
All the dreams of the world
Nothing can come between us
We are the travellers of time
See the desert
We have walked the path
Of all the known religions
In the big dream
We are brothers, we are sisters
Of the big dream
Just hear your voice
Sing all the songs of the earth
Nothing can come between us
You're a brother of mine
Sing out your sisters
All the dreams of the world
Nothing can come between us
Took me by surprise
It opened up my eyes
I can't believe we're ready to
Run another
Run another
Run another
Fourth Dimension Dream
All the way it seems
I can't believe we're running to
See the world for what it really is
In the full moon
ii Nothing Can Come Between Us
(Anderson Howe Wakeman Bruford)
Took me by surprise
It opened up my eyes
I can't believe we're ready to
Run another
Run another
Run another
Fourth Dimension Dream
Always the way it seems
Just hear the voice
In all the songs of the earth
Nothing can come between us
You're a brother of mine
We hold our hands together
Be th
song performed by by Yes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Brother Of Mine (I. The Big Dream II. Nothing Can Come Between Us III. Long Lost Brother Of Mine)
i The Big Dream
(Anderson Howe Wakeman Bruford)
So giving all the love you have
Never be afraid to show your heart
So giving all the love you have
There is a special reason
A special reason...
In the big dream
We are heroes
We are dreamers
Of the big dream
Someone told me
There are brothers
Live forever
In the big sky
Just hear your voice
Sing all the songs of the earth
Nothing can come between us
You're a brother of mine
Sing out your sisters
All the dreams of the world
Nothing can come between us
We are the travellers of time
See the desert
We have walked the path
Of all the known religions
In the big dream
We are brothers, we are sisters
Of the big dream
Just hear your voice
Sing all the songs of the earth
Nothing can come between us
You're a brother of mine
Sing out your sisters
All the dreams of the world
Nothing can come between us
Took me by surprise
It opened up my eyes
I can't believe we're ready to
Run another
Run another
Run another
Fourth Dimension Dream
All the way it seems
I can't believe we're running to
See the world for what it really is
In the full moon
ii Nothing Can Come Between Us
(Anderson Howe Wakeman Bruford)
Took me by surprise
It opened up my eyes
I can't believe we're ready to
Run another
Run another
Run another
Fourth Dimension Dream
Always the way it seems
Just hear the voice
In all the songs of the earth
Nothing can come between us
You're a brother of mine
We hold our hands together
Be th
song performed by by Yes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Forsaken Me
Forsaken Me
By: Adam M. Snow
Night by night, I lie awake wishing for soothing rain,
With loss of hope and faith I ask to ease this lonely pain.
With feeling lost and full of doubt, struggling through this frozen time,
And this stench of lies between the worldly grime,
Now follows behind me forevermore.
I hear the ghost of mine alone calling throughout the night,
With darkness within his voice, tormented with delight.
'Forsaken me' must he said.
And I, afraid of what now to come.
'Forsaken me' the voice grows strong.
And I, longing for what now to come.
But thus this be but a dream or thus this be but a life without a dream?
A life without faith and hope and all, does it seem?
Could this be but a mirror of my life?
Forsaken me, is all I hear,
Yet it shows me, itself is fear,
And I ponder to why it is here.
Could it be that death is near?
'Forsaken me' must he said.
And I, afraid of what now to come.
'Forsaken me' the voice grows strong.
And I, longing for what now to come.
Again, must I go through this,
The feeling of emptiness,
And the knowledge that all could end,
And this heart to not be mend?
Again, must I go through this,
To throw myself back into abyss?
'Forsaken me' must he said.
And I, afraid of what now to come.
'Forsaken me' the voice grows strong.
And I, longing for what now to come.
Maybe it's time to face my ghost,
And all the things that I boast,
And forsaken me nonetheless,
And free myself from all the stress.
Now I lie myself to sleep,
Forsaken myself with terrible heap.
'Forsaken me' the voice goes on,
Even 'gainst the blackest of dawn.
'Forsaken me' forevermore,
With every burden I must bore.
I see the ghost in tainted light,
Following the waking of the night.
Condemn me, condemn me,
It knows not what this curse may be.
Forsaken me, forsaken me,
Let my broken life see.
'Forsaken me' must he said.
And I, afraid of what now to come.
'Forsaken me' the voice grows strong.
And I, longing for what now to come.
My life's in shackles,
My misery, my hackles,
My longing for redemption.
I see a door, cracked and torn,
As I bow my head to mourn,
For my endless shadow of my endless fate,
Swallowed by everything that I hate.
'Forsaken me' the voice goes on,
Even 'gainst the blackest of dawn.
'Forsaken me' forevermore,
With every burden I must bore.
Must this ghost be me but an echo of what yet to come?
The presence I feel, the nameless numb.
Must this be my suffering end?
Must I now make amend,
With but a single heartache,
On the night of my Irish wake?
'Forsaken me' the voice goes on,
Even 'gainst the blackest of dawn.
'Forsaken me' forevermore,
With every burden I must bore.
Could it be that the ghost I spoke of,
Could it be that it's really me?
Gone from this world, lonely as can be.
Forsaken, as the years go by,
And to find all things must die.
Being left in solitude,
Cold and alone and yes, even nude.
Myself I now forsaken,
Curse to sleep and never awaken.
poem by Adam M. Snow
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Dream Brother
(j. buckley/m. grondahl/m. johnson)
There is a child sleeping near his twin
The pictures go wild in a rush of wind
That dark angel he is shuffling in
Watching over them with his black feather wings unfurled
The love you lost with her skin so fair
Is free with the wind in her butterscotch hair
Her green eyes blew goodbyes
With her head in her hands
And your kiss on the lips of another
Dream brother with your tears scattered round the world.
Don't be like the one who made me so old
Don't be like the one who left behind his name
'cause they're waiting for you like i waited for mine
And nobody ever came...
Don't be like the one who made me so old
Don't be like the one who left behind his name
'cause they're waiting for you like i waited for mine
And nobody ever came...
Don't be like the one who made me so old
Don't be like the one who left behind his name
'cause they're waiting for you like i waited for mine
Nobody ever came
Nobody ever...
I feel afraid and i call your name
I love your voice and your dance insane
I hear your words and i know your pain
With your head in your hands and her kiss on the lips of another
Your eyes to the ground and the world spinning round forever
Asleep in the sand with the ocean washing over
Asleep in the sand with the ocean washing over
Asleep in the sand with the ocean washing over
Ah do you meet the one i love
And smell the one who loves you
Dream brother, dream brother, dream, dream
Dream asleep in the sand with the ocean washing over
song performed by by Jeff Buckley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dare to dream.
dare to dream of far off lands,
dream of of deserts covered in sand,
dream of a future filled with hope,
dream of a place where evil never spoke.
dare to dream of powerful things,
dream of mighty and caring kings,
dream of a word without yells or wars,
dream of a world with open doors.
dream in colour not in black and white,
change the world without a fight,
shout out loud and may your voice be heard,
people will smile with your every word.
We are the generation of tomorrow, let us change the world.
poem by Zoe Martin
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To the Oracle at Delphi
Great Oracle, why are you staring at me,
do I baffle you, do I make you despair?
I, Americus, the American,
wrought from the dark in my mother long ago,
from the dark of ancient Europa--
Why are you staring at me now
in the dusk of our civilization--
Why are you staring at me
as if I were America itself
the new Empire
vaster than any in ancient days
with its electronic highways
carrying its corporate monoculture
around the world
And English the Latin of our days--
Great Oracle, sleeping through the centuries,
Awaken now at last
And tell us how to save us from ourselves
and how to survive our own rulers
who would make a plutocracy of our democracy
in the Great Divide
between the rich and the poor
in whom Walt Whitman heard America singing
O long-silent Sybil,
you of the winged dreams,
Speak out from your temple of light
as the serious constellations
with Greek names
still stare down on us
as a lighthouse moves its megaphone
over the sea
Speak out and shine upon us
the sea-light of Greece
the diamond light of Greece
Far-seeing Sybil, forever hidden,
Come out of your cave at last
And speak to us in the poet's voice
the voice of the fourth person singular
the voice of the inscrutable future
the voice of the people mixed
with a wild soft laughter--
And give us new dreams to dream,
Give us new myths to live by!
poem by Lawrence Ferlinghetti
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Voice Of The Heart
(j.t.stanley/john bettis/b.roberts)
Sometimes when your world seems so big and real
You may run to the shelter of walls
Sometimes you may wish
You could be like your shadow
It fits wherever it falls
Whenever the nights too deep to find
And the morning is too far away
Wherever you are
Theres always a star to guide the way
There to guide the way
If you listen long enough
If you dream it strong enough
A door inside will open
And a light will flood the dark
Like a song too long unsung
Or a soul forever young
We all will find an answer
In the voice of the heart
Tonight if a dream should come to your sleep
With a picture you dont wanna see
Go where it leads, from secret to secret
You are what you want to be
Whenever the sun refuses to shine
And you cant chase the storm clouds away
Wherever you are theres always a star to guide the way
There to guide the way
If you listen long enough
If you dream it strong enough
A door inside will open
And a light will flood the dark
Like a song too long unsung
Or a soul forever young
We all will find an answer
In the voice of the heart
Living in a private world
There are times when its hard to break through
So dont give up
Each time you hurt youve got nothing to lose
Theres a voice inside of you
If you listen long enough
If you dream it strong enough
A door inside will open
And a light will flood the dark
Like a song too long unsung
Or a soul forever young
We all will find an answer
In the voice of the heart
If you listen long enough
(listen)
If you dream it strong enough
(dream it)
A door inside will open
And a light will flood the dark
Like a song too long unsung
Or a soul forever young
We will find the answer
In the voice of the heart
If you listen long enough
(long enough)
If you dream it strong enough
(strong enough)
A door inside will open
And a light will flood the dark
Like a song too long unsung
Or a soul forever young
We will find an answer
In the voice of the heart
If you listen long enough
If you dream it strong enough
In the voice
In the voice of the heart
We will find the answer
Like a song too long unsung
song performed by by Diana Ross
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Captive's Dream
Methought I saw him but I knew him not;
He was so changed from what he used to be,
There was no redness on his woe-worn cheek,
No sunny smile upon his ashy lips,
His hollow wandering eyes looked wild and fierce,
And grief was printed on his marble brow,
And O I thought he clasped his wasted hands,
And raised his haggard eyes to Heaven, and prayed
That he might die - I had no power to speak,
I thought I was allowed to see him thus;
And yet I might not speak one single word;
I might not even tell him that I lived
And that it might be possible if search were made,
To find out where I was and set me free,
O how I longed to clasp him to my heart,
Or but to hold his trembling hand in mine,
And speak one word of comfort to his mind,
I struggled wildly but it was in vain,
I could not rise from my dark dungeon floor,
And the dear name I vainly strove to speak,
Died in a voiceless whisper on my tongue,
Then I awoke, and lo it was a dream!
A dream? Alas it was reality!
For well I know wherever he may be
He mourns me thus - O heaven I could bear
My deadly fate with calmness if there were
No kindred hearts to bleed and break for me!
poem by Anne Brontë
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Love's Echo
Your voice in echo haunting me
Whisper words that resonate,
They call in dreams persistently
And speak of Love that Truth negates.
For you were gone before the morn
You stole the sunshine from my days,
Crushed my heart and left it worn
Where tears tormented all my ways..
If Sleep would come without a dream
Oh such comforting release!
The gentle Silence sings it seems
Of songs that drown your voice with ease.
Your echoed Love, please speak no more
Accord me rest and new tomorrows!
Mute that voice just like before
When my heart knew of no great sorrows.
............................................. ..
August 3,2009
Tarlac City
Philippines
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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God Speaks In Many Ways
God speaks to us in many ways, many times throughout our days.
In our trials The Lord may send, a comforting word through a friend,
During that special time of need, God may use them to plant a seed.
A tiny seed sown just for that trial, that will cause your heart to smile.
God may send a friend to impart, words of wisdom into your heart.
God can even speak in the night, even when there’s no one in sight.
God will use the events of life, to draw you closer unto Jesus Christ.
For God is still quite active friend, speaking to the hearts of all men.
Almost anyone The Lord can use, to impart to men His Good News.
And when you truly come to Him, He’s with you through thick and thin.
God begins with you New Life, and talks to you through Jesus Christ.
For Jesus Christ is the Living Word, on this earth until all have heard.
The blessed news of Jesus Christ, that He came to grant Eternal Life.
And He gives you His Holy Spirit, to grasp the Word when you hear it.
Through The Word He will guide, Christians to walk close by His side.
For through The Word He speaks to you, as your life becomes anew.
Through the changes in your life, you shall hear the voice of Christ.
And as a shepherd always near, His voice you’ll hear loud and clear.
So when Christ calls, follow Him, and He will lead you from your sin.
And He will speak to you my friend, and Eternal Life will be your end.
The Whisper 2
I heard a whisper, carried on the wind
A faint but growing whisper, a hope for better things
Gentle ripples on the sea, grow to waves that burst upon the shore
One voice shared by many, will one day come knocking on your door
And could change the world
I saw a woman in Africa, weeping as she spoke
A voice heard by millions, now united with her hope
I heard a man from Europe, singing of his dream
To a growing mass of people, like stars reflected on the sea
I saw a man in Asia, standing firm against the wrong
Decades later, I heard they changed the law, immortalized him in song
I knew a woman in America, educated and wise
From poor beginnings she rose, to cut through all the unjust lies
If you plant a small seed, and you help it grow
You can change more than you know
You can change the world, imagine, you could change the world
I stood in a world divided, a world of rich and poor
A world forever fighting, for lies and nothing more
If you plant a small seed, And you help it grow
You can reap more than you know, You can change the world
There's a gentle breeze blowing, Bringing seeds of change
A gentle breeze blowing, Turning history's page, It's time for change
If you plant a small seed, And you help it grow
You can reap more than you know, You can change the world
World brotherhood of man, united commonwealth of lands
United under one law, a shared prosperity, and no war
Imagine, you can change the world... By One degree... You could change the world
All together and in one voice...
'We can change the world', 'change the world'
Each by one degree, 'we could change the world'
All together and in one voice... 'change the world'
Copyright Colin Coplin 2005 (2012)
poem by Colin Coplin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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